Just for today, I don't have to be concerned about who is reading this blog and what they may or may not think of me based on my entries. It's OK to write about dating and relationships and dysfunctional families. And if, by chance, people who know me should come on to the site and read my blog and then ask me "How much of this is autiobiographical?," I can just say the truth, which is, that this is a complete work of fiction.

I was looking over my archives and I found millions of typos all over my blogs. Perhaps, some people might call this sloppy. Well, those people clearly have not surfed the Internet enough because if there's any medium that accepts typos, it's the Web. It's just so easy to publish writing on the web, and you can always change it or correct it later. Some other people might call this laziness, or might ask me why don't I just paste my blog into word and let it get spell checked before I publish my posts. Well, they have a good point. But I'm only human. Just for today, it's OK to find typos.

Somewhere along the journey of my life, I slipped out of mainstream society and into the vortex of cyber/computer/technology/non-human space. I was never one who cared for computers (I didn't even own one in college) and, yet, finding myself single, childless, and directionless in life, all fears and phobias around technology slipped away and, suddenly, spending my weekend days (ok, some nights, too. God this is embarrassing...) in my PJ's in front of my computer, drinking insanely strong Pete's coffee, and surfing the web for Java scripts, became time well spent.

The beauty of personal or non-coporate web sites (where the designers are not getting paid) that have broken links or make no architectural sense is that, we can rest assured, those designers have well-developed personal lives.

Still, I must admit that, my computer and me, we do have something special going on.

Just for today, I embrace my computer (though, I will soon be upgrading), as a distraction from the prospect of the more intimate relationships (husband/children) that I will someday cultivate...but, for today, it's OK to love my computer.

Welcome to my new redesigned blog page! Talk about stressful! This application sure isn't for those challenged in reading manuals and directions! Thanks to Jared Planas for having the patience to figure out issues while I tore my hair out.

Just for today, I can be grateful for awesome friends who don't cry when faced with technical challenges, but meet them with loving patience.

I did my duties of seeing many family members and now I'm going on a vacation from my vacation. Most likely I will find Internet access in the wilds. But if not, will blog on Friday.

Just for today, I can be on vacation.

I had about five or six REALLY FUNNY things to say today...something about how I ask everyone how much they pay for cable, even though I've never had it in my life (I'm telling you...High-lar-i-ous. You would have died.). But at some point in my day, some time during my obsessive search of the cast of Sixteen Candles on IMDB or for any kind of cure for my recurring UTI (I know all about the cranberry juice...please, I've digested enough to burn a hole through a space shuttle...I'm looking for new ideas)...I FORGOT all the very funny, publishable, self-deprecating, non-offensive things I've had to say.

And I think I know why.

I think it's because I'm tired of being FUCKING SELF-DEPRECATING and NON-OFFENSIVE. (I know I've written some unkind things about our re-elected president, but so has half the country...). The point is that I think it's about time I've started offending some people, my e-mail box is lonely for hate mail. So, here goes...

I saw the film (let's face it, it's a film, not a movie), "Kinsey," and I didn't really like Liam Neeson's performance. I thought it was a little boring. And the scenes where John Lithgow plays his father (and Liam played young 23-year-old Kinsey) were weird. There you go! Let me have it!

Just for today, I can be offensive.

1) No matter how embarrassing and downright stupid my journaling from my teen years is, I am loathe to burn them because some day I might have a pressing need to find out what I thought I felt for (INSERT NAME) when I was 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17.... I don't actually think I wrote a whole lot that was genuinely connected to my reality of that time, but it still might interest me (clutter no more?).

2) Basic Cable = Television Reception [Why don't THEY (not publicizing my cable provider cuz I'm not an advertising whore) just come out and say it? You have to pay us to watch Judge Judy, the Rockford Files dubbed in Spanish, and local city council meetings (which is not to say that the above listings are NOT entertainment...)].

3) Coffee is not my enemy. Sugar is. (Someone told me sugar ages the body and that was it for me. Because the fact that it's void of nutrients and lowers the immune system weren't good enough reasons to stop digging into the candy bins for Runts and Sweedish Fish like a drug addict.) That said, however, I feel a ton better without sugar than my body THAN I EVER DID WTIHOUT COFFEE! So, take to the Republican Congressional committee of award certifiers Dr. Hak (who's still a nice guy/antibiotic drug dealer)!

4) Cable modem rocks!

I'm sure my account is on Red Alert at Verizon Wireless. My relationship has been rocky with them as of late, due to some inconsistencies between what they say and what is printed on their little computer screens when I call back later. I know Brian and Gloria are just people working their jobs and are not corporate giants ready to manipulate and destroy me, but sometimes they do feel like Nazi pawns. I've basically haggled them to the point where I've created my own special cell phone plan for those customers willing to spend hours of their lives talking to supervisors and then apologizing for raising their voices. By the time I'm off the phone, I've had full relatioships with these people. They know more about me than most of my closest friends. And why do I spend all this time talking to faceless voices controlling my cell phone fate? Because the sun doesn't go down at 9:00 PM?!!! Nights, as far as I know, begin when it's been dark for at least two hours! If nobody else but me thinks that's crazy then go ahead and wait till 9:00 PM to make dinner plans!

Just for today, I have a cell phone plan that works.

Just FYI: It's far better for a blogger to just write some insanely boring blog about how the fruit from the fruit truck tastes far better than the fruit shaped objects sold in groceries stores, than to wait for something brilliant to happen to blog about. Especially, when your life is at a slightly chill stand-still.

Just for today, I can blog.

When is asparagus officially to old to be opened from the plastic wrapping, let alone be eaten? For some reason, it's not something I want to learn from experience.

It's been a crazy time for me, what with having a job to go to every day and all...(what's up with this five day work week...have people gone INSANE?!). So, here I am, supporting myself by working for The Man while I race on the hamster wheel of my own making (I haven't actually made a hamster wheel for myself - yet - it's more a figure of speech). But amidst filing my taxes, applying for writing grants, and ALMOST becoming a certified member of the local yoga cult (I know how the chanting goes, I just don't always feel like doing it), I have learned one thing....and that is...Fedex/Kinko's is evil. Yes, Satan is alive and well, and you or someone you know may be consorting with Him (Hey, if God's a man then so is Satan, you just can't have it both ways). Why? Two words. $.49 a COPY (actually that's three words, if you count money as a word) if you print out from their computers!!! Not to mention the $.25 a minute to use a computer.

I don't mean to get my flaming liberal on, but somebody is making $$ and it sure isn't "Robert" at the front counter.

Just for today, I'm not to busy to be annoyed.

There's a time when I need to make myself tired. I'm taking such good care of myself, I've become a hermit living in a bubble. It's like I'm saving myself for something or someday and in the process wasting my life. Those are times when I need to go out and disperse myself out in the world. Stay out too late, be too busy, do too much. And then there are times when I need to pick up the pieces of my dispersement: drop stuff off at the dry cleaner, cook for myself, buy my mascara and shampoo and other crap Target (it's so much cheaper than Sav-On/CVS), and be boring. If it wasn't for gravity, we'd fly off the earth. If it weren't for fatigue and the fact that I don't have a personal assistant or a wife (is there a difference?), I would lose my center and be pulled into every attractive or obligatory corner of the world. Life isn't going anywhere. I can take a week off and take it easy.

Just for today, I can rest.

Now that THE PROJECT is sorta done (there are so many loose threads, I could sew a couple of scarves to give away for Xmas...but it looks done and that's what's important), my site is REDESIGNED (in case you haven't noticed), and I'm in the throws of (TMI alert) a hellacious (TMI = Too Much Info) period (not to get into the gory details, but...well, 'nuff said), I am experiencing a creative drought (why do I have a blog if I have nothing to say that's fit for mass consumption...?!). I've been meandering through the work day, getting distracted by pictures of whales and dreaming of new salsa shoes...I think it's called burn out.

Just for today, I'm tired.

I've already flaked on my own promise to blog everyday. At least I'm honest about it. I could go and post retroactively about what a blissfully lazy Sunday I'm having watching 80's movies. But no, my new commitment is to embrace pointless honesty for the sake of redeeming the fact that I woke up at a quarter to 11:00 today...(good thing I don't have a job to go to).

Speaking of which, I've also decided to embrace unemployment. After all, there's really no need to descend into an Existential What Is My Life Purpose? Identity Crisis because - let's face it - I've lived there for the last thirteen years. Existential What Is My Life Purpose? Identity Crisis has been my identity - job or no job, boyfriend or no boyfriend. I've spent so much time searching my soul that I've managed to methodically organize it with the same obsessive energy that I've applied to my closet. If I need to find my yoga pants, I'm not going stand there and cry about the utter impermanence and seeming futility of life. I'm just going to open the bottom drawer, pull them out, and ask myself where I get off advertising my booty flab to the world...

It's not just that I'm too old for the twenty-something existential drama (although, I am), but at this point in my self-absorbed life, I have to admit to myself that all my worrying and whining has really just been an unconvincing foil to avoid the unavoidable C-word...Commitment.

And, like all self-manufactured drama, even existential fretting gets boring (actually, it's especially boring all the time).

Just for today, I can embrace my unemployed life.

In order to keep my life functioning, I have to write things down (maybe that's why I'm a writer?). I have lists coming out of my ass. My lists include items that range from the mundane...

Get oil changed.

...to the abstract...

Forgive that asshole you slept with.

...to the difficult...

Buy original art that will uplift your spirits and appreciate over time at a rate of 10% a year.

...to the cosmic...

Have a child.

...to the complicated...

Find an emotionally stable dentist.

...to the relational...

Call aunt to wish her a happy birthday.

...to the mundane (again).

Buy some orchid food.

Just for today, I can write things down.

Ok, so today I've got two very loud improv actors sitting behind me broadcasting the status of their careers to the entire land of coffee (from here to South America). Other than that there's a pretty chill vibe in Coffee Shop Land. No Screaming Children, no Creepy Men, just lots of people listening to Journey and reading The Onion in this metropolitan city on this 14th day of May 2008 (OMG/WTF?...did you see that? I don't even know WHAT MONTH IT IS?!...things are worse than I thought...). FYI, today is the 14th of APRIL 2008 (this is what lack of structure does to people like me).

Years from now people will ask us what we were doing as the earth headed towards environmental, economic and spiritual combustion, and I'll have to say that we were helping the world by getting caffeinated, laughing at social parody, and enjoying that mysterious happy pill of 80's music. And creating a Good Vibe is, at least, something...(I did volunteer to make calls for the Hilary Clinton campaign and my favorite response was, "Is she a Democrat or Republican?").

Meanwhile, I continue to procrastinate working on my over-serious Opus, making decisions about my life (hello, job?), and washing the bucket of bird shit that landed on my car over the weekend. It must have been a giant bird (what are they eating these days? colon cleansers?...that stuff works for me). I heard that it's good luck, so I think I'm good for the next decade (however, between the white splash, dents, and trashed license plate, my car is looking ghet-to).

God, help me. I'm beginning to bore myself.

Here's some inspiration for anyone patient enough to get through my babble:

"The time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time." - Bertrand Russell

Just for today, I can enjoy procrastinating with my boring blog.

When I was in the 3rd grade my teacher asked us to write an autobiography. I remember feeling overwhelmed by what seemed like an undertaking of immense proportions. I could not, for the life of me, understand why she gave us just one night to complete a project of this scale and scope (I can't remember what my autobiography said, but I do remember it was the longest in the class...). Years later, my blog attests to how much mileage I get out of the trivial and mundane (i.e., coffee, eyebrows, and salsa shoes). And, yet, when asked to write a bio, I have nothing to say except that I once graduated college and now I write a blog.

Just for today, I can accept that I have a boring life.

...as in, I bit the dust. Or, I made love to the pavement. I was jogging towards the beach where I usually run in the late evening on nights when I don't have anything to do.

I used to be scared of night time running due to the fact that beach is the perfect place to rob somebody because nobody could hear a person screaming. But at night, the only people I see are probably too high to run after me, let alone wrangle me.

Anyway, danger aside, I was heading out of my apartment and towards the beach when I looked out and noticed an exceptionally dark night. (Many moonlit nights are actually really bright and I can see my shadow). However, this night was dark, and I was thinking it looked kind of scary when the next thing to know I was flat on the pavement. Nobody saw me (except God), and after that I went on my merry way.

There's really no other point to this story...

Just for today, I can fall down.

I believe that everyone has a dance. Sure, we can all love all dances, and all dance them. But there is one dance that belongs to each of us. I know a guy who dances salsa, who I never really wanted to dance with. One time I went swing dancing with him, and he rocked the house. I stood in line to dance with him. Swing was his dance.

Ballet is NOT that dance for me.

Of course, I know it's salsa. But still...when I take ballet, I have to watch the weirdness of the moves on my body. I look goofy. It's the equivalent of how I look with frills and a bow in my hair; it doesn't match my personality.

Tomorrow I'm wearing a leotard. God, help me.

Just for today, I can take ballet.

1) New Refrigerator! - I might post a picture of my old refrigerator. I say "might" because I'll probably chicken out. When's the the last time you've seen a brown refrigerator? According, to the delivery men, maybe the early 70's, probably earlier. They took the grill off, and that thing had dust bunnies from before I was born. (I'm burning with shame as I write this).

2) Car Maintenance! - My car was making this weird noise on Sunday night. But when I was stopped at a light and stepped on the gas, everything was fine. It only happened when I was driving.

I thought maybe a night of staying still would miraculously cure it, but the next morning, I could still hear the weird noise. It wasn't until I could barely drive my car that I realized that the "weird noise" was the sound of a deflating tire. The AAA Guy found the nail that I had driven on. Who the hell is disseminating nails on the street? I still think that the owner of the SUV who tried to take up two parking spaces if it wasn't for me who squeezed into half of one (because my parking skills defy spatial logic) got mad and rammed it in there. Whatever, Mr. Parking Space Hog because I needed new tires anyway! Not just 1, or 3 (which, as I learned, is an impossible number of tires to buy), but four. Yes, I was driving on four bald tires. Who knew that gliding over a wet surface could be a bad thing? So, that nail helped make my car safer.

3) New Numbers! - After the tire drama, I decided to wash my car. I figured why put new tires on a dirty car? But, lo and behold, I couldn't pay for my car wash because my debit card had been deactivated due to fraud detection. (Is this a really boring blog entry?). Yes, someone in Maryland had taken $9.54 out of my account and I'm getting a new debit card. As I learned from my Bank People, if some Frauder decides to deplete your bank account...you have to make a case to get the money back. That's some serious bullshit, but at least I have a new debit card number.

Dustballs, parking space whores, random nails, and fraudulent people...are helping me upgrade.

Next: Computer!

Just for today, I can get new stuff.

I just went on a crazy cleaning spree. It was awesome. I broke new ground; ceiling fan, the heater...it was like taking a hot shower after a long, excruciating camping trip at sites with no showers and disgusting porta-potties.

Cleaning used to be my addiction. And I had friends who tried to convince me that this was a bad thing. I'd spend hours of my weekend scrubbing, mopping, actually moving furniture. Friends said, "Life is too short. Get a cleaning lady." But the idea of someone touching my dirt always sounded super creepy to me, not to mention I live in a tiny apartment. But it wasn't only that. Why give someone else the opportunity to scrub away my mistakes, regrets, and dead skin cells? No, I thought. I'll just tone it down a bit, clean like someone who has a life. I gave myself an hour to toss a mop around. Now I have pockets of disgustingness, places I don't look at, my fractured sense self lies below the stove, under the bed...

Mold and grease are not my friends.

Just for today, I'm hiring a cleaning lady.